


Ships Passing

by inelegantly (Lir)



Series: SWAG 2016 Fills [19]
Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, Consensual Kink, Dom/sub, Drinking, First Meetings, Getting to Know Each Other, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/pseuds/inelegantly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ogata meets a stranger in a Go parlor in between matches to defend his Judan title. Though initially skeptical of this company, he finds he has more in common with a Korean pro who's retired into teaching than he might otherwise have expected. It's an opportunity he chooses not to allow to pass him by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ships Passing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psiten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psiten/gifts).



> This was written for the sports anime winter games, for the prompt, "Two consenting adults meet in a smoky Go parlor, have a game, maybe a few drinks, and then go back to Ogata's place -- at which point Ogata gets some of the personal domination he so desperately needs." 
> 
> It's also the result of conversations with Psiten about how Ogata really just needs someone who can go toe-to-toe with him at his level and put him in his place, and about how Yun-sensei, the advisor for Kaio's Go club who also used to be a Korean pro, would fulfill such a role surprisingly well.

-

"Do you mind, if I take this seat?"

Ogata is slow in looking up from the board, eyes focusing through the dimness on a man he doesn't recognize, dressed nicely in a collared shirt and good khakis. His expression is mild, glancing from Ogata, to the chair across from him, and back again.

Ogata looks down once more at the board in front of him, shrugs his shoulders, and tells the stranger, "Suit yourself." 

He hears the scrape of the chair across the floor more than he sees it. More surprising than the fact that a stranger has asked to sit with him is the fact that the man does not offer further interruption. He doesn't ask for a game, which Ogata would have declined, or offer conversation, to which Ogata would only have replied tersely. To all appearances he is doing nothing more than studying the board, doing so as intently as Ogata himself.

It's a recreation of the title match Ogata is, at that moment, still playing out. 

"Whoever is playing white," the stranger comments, at some length, "is playing very aggressively." 

Ogata is silent a moment, aware that "aggressive" is the _least_ of the words he might use to describe this particular foe. He's fought back with all his strength, giving what little ground he has only under great duress. It's still more rope than he'd care to part with, lest his enemy tie him with it. 

"This formation here in particular," the stranger continues, his voice coming out low, thoughtful, "has a lot of life to it. He's built himself a good foundation from which to transform his attack in numerous ways." 

"That's exactly the problem," Ogata agrees. Though he's surprised by his company's astuteness, he finds the analysis unobjectionable. "I've done my best to hamper white's momentum, but even while I would consider myself ahead, I feel my opponent has me on the defensive." 

"You could attack," the man says, pointing to one space on the board, then another. "Here, or here. But those are very aggressive moves on their own — it seems to me that what you want least to do, even more than playing defensively, is to be drawn into his tempo." 

"It's true. Following up on that sort of play doesn't cater to the strengths of my game — as I suspect you may have noticed. Though it might strengthen my position, it's equally likely to be turned on me." 

"That does seem the case," the man muses. "Whatever you choose to do, it appears that you are in a tricky position. This is not a win that will come easily to you." 

"It's not a win I ever believed would come easily," Ogata retorts. 

"Of course not. Nevertheless, I wish you the best in the match, Ogata Judan." 

At that, Ogata raises both his brows, unable to quash his surprise before it's evident upon his face. He'd already been worrying at the question of who this man is, when he's skillful enough to comment on a game between pros — and self-assured enough to do so with full knowledge of who Ogata is, he realizes only now. With that additional information, he can't stop himself from sinking his teeth all the way into the puzzle. 

"I don't believe we've met before," is what he says. "And yet it seems you are quite familiar with me, and with my playing. It makes a man wonder how that might come to pass." 

"I keep abreast of news within the Go world," the man says. But it's not without a deferential incline of his head that parses to Ogata as a belated greeting. "But please, pardon my rudeness. I am Yun, a teacher at Kaio Junior High." 

It isn't what Ogata is expecting to hear, and he realizes too late that his expression reflects this, when Yun's mouth twitches, like he's trying not to smile. 

"Is that not what you were expecting?" he asks. "Or is it that the reality is more disappointing than any possible fiction?" 

"Nothing like that," Ogata demures. "I simply hadn't realized the level of play among teachers in schools was becoming this advanced." 

Yun laughs, a quiet, gratified sound of amusement, and gestures down at the board. "I used to play games like this, in my own country. And there is an undeniable excitement, to honing one's skills against an opponent such as this. Nevertheless, these days I prefer the simpler reward that is teaching students to improve at the game." 

Ogata laughs himself, though his is more of a soft, disbelieving snort. It's hard for him to imagine, someone who plays like a pro — who _was_ a pro, if he's reading Yun's implication correctly, and he _does_ find that name to be undeniably familiar — but is happier teaching basics to children. Ogata could never do it. 

"Is it simply that you like teaching, then?" he asks. "And haven't lost passion for fights upon the board? I wouldn't want to presume interest, before asking you for a game." 

"Against Ogata 9-dan, holder of the Judan title?" Yun asks, managing to make Ogata's accomplishments sound as casual as his own position of _teacher._ "I would not say no." 

At that, Ogata begins clearing away the stones from his recreation of the title game. A moment later, Yun begins to help him. It's quick work with two pairs of hands, the board rapidly returning to a pristine, empty state. They nigiri, and Ogata passes Yun the go-ke full of black stones. After defending viciously against white during the day, there's something refreshing about holding those pale stones in his own hand. 

Ogata quickly finds that Yun's astuteness at analysis is by no means an over-selling of his gameplay. 

The opening game is careful, each of them moving conservatively, thoughtfully, using the placement of each stone to gauge their opponent. It's enough to convince Ogata not to be careless, before abruptly a battle has broken out on the upper right almost without his thinking about it, and all of his concentration is absorbed into the game. 

Ogata doesn't often frequent Go parlors, preferring them as a social avenue only when he is out with other pros and suddenly there is a desire between them to have a match, immediately, with no time wasted to choose another setting. The only exception is during title matches and other multi-day games, when the dark, smoky interior of a Go parlor becomes far preferable to the stuffy sterility of whatever hotel room Ogata is renting for the duration. Like he's done this evening. What good fortune it is to have found a worthy opponent in such a place is not lost upon him. 

"You do play well," Ogata comments, while studying the board in preparation to take his next move. 

"Thank you," Yun says. "I am pleased, that playing against children has not weakened my skills." 

He stares evenly at Ogata, and Ogata realizes the comment is a _jab._ Worse, it seems to him that the opposite must have happened — Yun plays a very creative game, far more innovative than many of the pros Ogata is lucky enough to play in private settings as well as at public events. Much like Yun had said earlier, victory in _this_ game is also not a win that will come easily to Ogata. 

He reaches into his pocket, getting as far as tapping a cigarette out of the pack and raising it most of the way to his lips before it occurs to him that to do so might be indelicate. 

"Would you—?" he starts to say, offering the package toward Yun. 

He appears to consider for a moment, before extending a hand and allowing Ogata to tilt another cigarette out against his fingers. Ogata slides the pack back into his pocket and takes his lighter into his hand, making as if to offer it to Yun before himself. At the man's subtle headshake "no," Ogata simply shrugs, flicks it alight, and brings his own cigarette into contact with the flame. 

As he's sucking it to catch, ensuring the end has properly set to burning, Yun leans forward across the table. The faint glow from Ogata's cigarette illuminates his face with warm, focused light, catching off the whites of low-lidded eyes, off the faintest sheen of spit on lips wrapped tight around a cigarette. 

He tilts it up, and Ogata realizes he means to catch a light off of Ogata directly. 

He breathes in sharp, unintentionally, only making the end of his cigarette burn momentarily brighter. It only takes a moment for Yun's cigarette to catch as well before he's leaning away, taking a proper drag once he isn't sharing Ogata's air and breathing the smoke out to the side of their table. 

He looks remarkably casual doing it, blending effortlessly into the dim, smoky interior of the Go parlor. Ogata feigns study of the board, turning his attention from Yun more so he can smoke without distraction than because he needs more than a moment to deliberate over his next move. He can feel Yun's eyes on him — as warm on his face as the flame from his lighter, but somehow gentle enough to be no more threatening than that. 

He's losing the rhythm of the game, but he makes his next move anyway. 

"Do you come to Go parlors often?" he asks, finding himself curious enough that it's more than small talk. "I didn't realize teachers had so much free time." 

"I don't," Yun admits, placing his next stone upon the board. "But at times, I find the atmosphere relaxing." 

Ogata makes a little "hmph" sound in his throat, unable to deny that he feels the same and unwilling to admit that there's something gratifying about that, about knowing that they're alike in their manner of seeking reprieve. He watches Yun smoke, with short, truncated motions of his hand towards and away from his mouth. It's mechanical, but in an absent-minded sort of way — like Yun hasn't realized this is something he's forgotten how to do but where the rust is still there, slowly sloughing off as he comes back into practice. 

To Ogata's surprise, it isn't at all awkward to watch. There's an economy of motion, nothing wasted, that speaks to the type of Go he likes to play on the board. 

He likes Yun's company better than he might have expected, becoming too aware of the companionable air between them, of the building feeling of familiarity that comes not from knowing someone as a person, but from knowing what they care about. No man who plays Go skillfully could be entirely a stranger to Ogata. 

He thinks, he might like for this man to be less of a stranger than that. 

But it's a dangerous avenue of thought, as like to be born from the stress of the title matches and the loneliness inherent to being away from home, even a home he shares at the best of times with no one save for himself and his fish, as it is to be any truly genuine desire. It isn't the first time Ogata has risen to the challenge another pro has presented him with more than sportsmanlike vigor, and he has no doubt it will not be the last. The trick to such things is knowing when to leave them unmined. 

Ogata realizes, with the distracted air of someone who is only watching a game and not playing in it, that they have moved into the end game of their match. Ordinarily Ogata plays a decisive, smart game in the final phase, protecting his own territory and cleverly slivering off bits of his opponent's. He can't say that his showing against Yun is proving a credit to his usual canny strategizing. 

"Should we tally it?" Yun asks, a few minutes later when the last of their moves have played out upon the board. "Or is that necessary? I believe we both already know where things stand." 

He's correct. Ogata knows the count — a victory by two moku, and not in his favor. 

"It isn't necessary," he agrees. "Thank you for the game. It was eye-opening in ways I hadn't counted upon, playing in a place like this." 

"I feel that is part of the nature of Go," Yun says. "No matter where you play it, people will surprise you." 

Ogata raises his brows, offering Yun a questioning look. "That's something your students have taught you, I suppose?" 

"It is," Yun agrees. "When I first came to Japan, I was disappointed with the level of play I encountered. I wondered, who is here to challenge me? But that was haughty of me, and only after I began to devote myself more sincerely to teaching did the challenge of _that_ profession make itself known. In facing that challenge, I found that it was not the only surprise in store for me. Inspiration is there, where you least expect it." 

It cuts unexpectedly close to the way Ogata is feeling — about playing in Go parlors, about letting himself close to other Go pros. For a moment he is utterly blindsided, and then his mouth is opening without his full, conscious bidding. 

"I have a hotel nearby," he says. "Where I'm staying during the title matches." 

Yun looks at him, even, weighing, his mouth pressing seriously closed. Ogata keeps his composure by the dint of much practice, though there's heat rising up the back of his neck as the reality of his own _audacity_ continues to sink in. The silence between them gains depth, but Ogata does not take back his implicit offer. 

"If you would like my company," Yun says, "then I believe it would be my pleasure to accept." 

The agreement comes so easily that Ogata almost does not know what to do with the response. Yun answers the question for him, beginning to clear his own stones from the board. Ogata can follow suit in that much, and soon the board is once again cleared, the go-ke carefully aligned in their places. Yun rises from his seat, and Ogata rises to walk with him. Once they're on the street he's forced to retake the lead, as the one between them who knows the way to his hotel. 

He doesn't walk quickly. Though he's certain there _should_ be some sense of urgency, of fragility, when he has overtly asked for a one-night stand and been rewarded for his boldness, the feeling isn't there. He chalks it up to Yun's personality — the man has presented himself too thoroughly as someone calm, composed, and deliberate in his actions. For someone like that, it would be beside the point to rush. 

They both have too much propriety to do so much as kiss in public, not on the street, not in the hotel lobby, not even in the elevator. Ogata removes his room key from his wallet and lets them inside, turning on the entry way light within the small suite. For all that he doesn't feel pressured to seize at this opportunity as if it were something fleeting enough to be missed, there is a sense of anticipation that has risen up underneath his skin, his nerves strung taut with his expectations of what is to come next. 

"Would you like something to drink?" he asks, falling back on manners and hospitality even when introducing a delay is the _last_ thing he wishes to do. "I'm afraid I haven't gone to such lengths as to acquire anything to my personal taste, but I can at the least pour you something from the mini bar." 

"Do you want to pour me a drink?" Yun asks, his voice deceptively mild. 

Ogata bites his tongue, turning over the various possibilities of how to say, _no, not at all, not remotely in the world._ He can feel Yun watching him again, and curiosity over what Yun must see, looking at him, briefly overtakes him. He feels in that moment transparent, too obvious in the things he wants and too twisted to say as much outright and with no pretty dancing around the words. 

"I don't mind," Yun says, taking a step past Ogata to move farther into the room. "If that's what you want to do." 

He glances back at Ogata, expression all too pleasant, almost smiling. It hits Ogata all at once that what Yun _means_ is very, very different from what he appears to be saying. His throat constricts, choking off all ability to reply as he attempts to swallow the knowledge that he's brought home someone who is far, far more of a challenge than Ogata had thought to account for. 

Ogata says nothing, but Yun seems to read the answer he wants plainly enough from Ogata's face. He takes another couple of steps into the hotel room, and says over his shoulder, "Get me a drink, Ogata-kun." 

The layout of the room itself necessitates that Ogata follow Yun in order to comply. Yun walks slowly, deliberately, through the front area of the hotel room and over to the bed, seating himself on the edge of it. The mini bar is just beside it, secreted away in a cabinet that appears to be part of a dresser, a configuration which requires Ogata to kneel simply in order to withdraw any of the liquor bottles from inside. 

Yun makes a soft hum of approval, as Ogata sinks momentarily onto his knees. He feels heat again flare up the back of his neck, with a flush that spreads over his shoulders and down his chest but thankfully leaves his face comparatively cool. His composure _is_ something he's proud of, proud that he can hide how he's been shaken by something so simple as the knowledge that someone he wants to sleep with likes seeing him kneel.

"Come here," Yun says, when he sees Ogata has taken one of the bottles into his hand. 

Ogata glances up at him, to where Yun has made himself comfortable on the bed. His body is twisted, knees pointed to one side, arm outstretched to support him on the other. It's casual, comfortable, and Yun tilts his head, beckoning Ogata over through only the most subtle of gestures. 

He realizes, with a surety that makes his gut drop and sets heat to pooling low in his groin, that what Yun means is, _on your knees._ That's enough to make his pride flare with indignation, a righteous objection that makes itself known bright and fierce upon his face. Yun's eyebrows arch in question, before his own expression softens.

"You don't have to," he murmurs, in a voice more gentle than the one he'd used in giving orders. "I don't believe that I've misjudged, but it would be doing you a disservice, to try and proceed without your agreement. Is this what you wanted? I assume we'll use the usual signals." 

_That_ takes Ogata by surprise almost more than the realization that Yun _would_ play dominance games with him. It's only basic courtesy, and yet it also serves to salve Ogata's rising pride. It's the least he _should_ have asked for, knowing that the person to whom he'd give his submission will likewise give to him respect. 

"You were right the first time," Ogata tells him, which he trusts will be understood to mean: _yes._

"Alright," Yun says, before Ogata swears he can _see_ the man draw that mantle of command back overtop his shoulders. "Come here." 

This time, though Ogata's pride stings and rankles in a way that also sends hot shivers running down his spine, Ogata leans forward onto his hands. It's ungainly, with the diminutive liquor bottle still clasped in one of them, but he manages to shuffle on hands and knees across the meager distance separating him from Yun. The other man spreads his knees apart, and Ogata leans back on his heels so he's settled between them. 

"Do you have condoms?" Yun asks him, as pleasantly as he might ask "do you have ice?" for the liquor Ogata is holding onto. 

"I—" Ogata starts to say. "Yes." 

Yun smiles, a thin spreading of his lips, and takes the liquor bottle out of Ogata's hands. "In that case, we will not need this. Although I do thank you for your hospitality." 

There's a bite to those words, and before Ogata quite manages to process it, Yun's hands have moved to the front of his own pants. His motions are spare, efficient, drawing his cock out through the gap that is his unzipped fly. Ogata is watching his hands while he does it — hands that are not _unfamiliar,_ rough as they are with the particular calluses that come from handling the stones. 

"Go ahead," Yun says, the fingertips of his free hand light where they press against Ogata's jaw. "I want to see how your skills measure against my expectations in this arena." 

A challenge, then. It lights the necessary spark within Ogata, pushing him to lean forward, to press into the palm Yun unfolds to curve against his cheek and to open his mouth in acceptance of the cock Yun lays against his tongue. Ogata closes his lips, sucking the soft head of it into his mouth and letting his tongue work slowly over it. Part of him is waiting to have his mouth thrust into whether he's ready for it or not. But Yun has to this point been _far_ too deliberate for that, and though he thickens gratifyingly under the workings of Ogata's tongue and suction of Ogata's pulled-in cheeks, he would not have managed to pull that off a minute earlier, half-hard as he was. 

Yun allows Ogata to continue until the swelling of his cock has stretched Ogata's lips tight, forcing him to fight harder to fit the length of it farther into his mouth. Then his fingers slide up into the back of Ogata's hair, twining into it and pulling Ogata steadily off of his dick. 

"Do you want for me to fuck you?" Yun asks him. 

Ogata's mind goes pleasantly blank, even as he nods his head in agreement. 

"Get me the condoms," Yun says. "And then prove to me that I should." 

He moves back on the bed, pushing his pants farther down his hips as he does and sliding both khakis and underwear off his legs to settle on the floor beside where Ogata has been kneeling. Ogata meanwhile turns away, reaching into the bedside table still on hands and knees in order to draw out a string of condoms and a small bottle of lubricant. 

He begins to offer them to Yun, who only shakes his head, much as he had done when Ogata offered him the lighter in the Go parlor. "No," he says. "Do it yourself. Get undressed." 

Ogata does, well aware of the weight of Yun's gaze settling heavy against him. His stripping is done on autopilot. The idea of performing doesn't even occur to him; someone like Yun would doubtlessly consider that an inefficient waste of time, as opposed to something worth lingering over. His eyes, however, do linger — obvious as they track over Ogata's chest, along his abs, down to the juncture of his thighs where his cock points up in embarrassing readiness. For the slimmest of moments, Yun smiles. 

Suitably naked, Ogata falters a moment, gaze drawn to where Yun's hand is curled around his own cock. Yun allows for that, before saying, "Spread your knees." 

It's not so much a command as a reminder, as it is Yun pointing out that Ogata is the one who wants to get fucked, and likewise Ogata is the one delaying the proceedings of that. He does as directed, spreading his legs apart and uncapping the bottle of lube. It isn't difficult, spreading himself open with his own, familiar fingers. But it's never made his skin burn so brightly when he's been alone, every inch of him hot with the feeling of _watching,_ of having clever eyes sear sharp little holes right through him.

"Good?" Yun asks, just as Ogata is starting to ache from the _lack_ of fullness that is falling repeatedly onto his own crooked fingers. "Come here. Show me how you would like this to be done." 

Ogata does. He slides over Yun's outstretched legs, kneels over his hips and takes that necessary, extra time to roll a condom down Yun's cock with his own hands. Then he's leaning forward, pressing himself back onto it, rolling his hips down until their bodies connect and there's nowhere else to go. Yun isn't even touching him, not actively; he's only _watching._

But Ogata is familiar enough with that. 

He's less familiar with this than he cares to admit, frequent as the dry spells in a professional Go player's life often become, without a wife or steady partner to turn to. His thrusts are messy at first, working out the angle, working out the speed. His is not an active profession and though he likes to think he keeps himself in good shape, all too quickly Ogata is gasping and panting with the exertion of fucking himself on Yun's magnanimously provided cock. 

He wants Yun to do this, wants for Yun to physically take control. But it never crosses his mind to ask. He's utterly consumed by what he's doing, body shaking and throat constricting, choking down on the grunts of exertion and low, throaty moans the guts of him so badly want to make. One minute he's rocking in Yun's lap, riding the rising tide of his arousal at the pleasant stretch, the feel of fullness. The next, he's coming abruptly over the lower reaches of Yun's chest. 

"I thought you wanted for me to fuck you," Yun says, so that Ogata tangles in the crossed wires from the wash of his orgasm juxtaposed against the bite of Yun's disapproval. "I was not finished with that endeavor." 

Yun reaches behind Ogata, sliding his hands up and then down Ogata's back to balance the weight of them, then rolls Ogata over so he's sprawling on top of him, his cock still shoved into Ogata to the hilt. To his credit, he starts out slowly, with long, measured thrusts that make up for what they lack in speed with steady, solid force. Each roll of his hips sets Ogata to jerking against the bed, eyes popping wide as it quickly becomes almost — but not quite — more than he can handle. 

Yun leans over him, his face cast in shadows born from the inclination of his own body. His face is still so close that Ogata cannot miss his eyes even so, steadily watching Ogata until he reaches his own, less dramatic finish. Ogata's panting shades into more of a whine by that point, usually steady voice gone reedy with overstimulation. 

Yun pulls out, and pulls away from him. 

Ogata sinks onto his back, needing that moment to recover. His chest is heaving with shakes he hadn't noticed until that moment, and his legs have gone jelly-limp. As he slowly comes back to full awareness of himself, of his surroundings, of the situation he's put himself in, he also becomes aware of Yun, once again watching him. 

"Good?" Yun asks him, in a voice that is distant, neutral. 

Ogata's only response is a drawn out, somewhat aggrieved groan. He doesn't have the words to intimate that it wasn't "good," it was exactly what he'd been needing — thorough fucking and all. 

"This isn't exactly the way in which I had planned to spend my evening," Yun confides, continuing on as if he considers Ogata to have answered his question. "But as with most surprises I have received in life, I cannot say that I object to the way things have come to pass." 

"You could stay," Ogata tells him return, with far more bluntness than he would ordinarily employ. 

Yun is at that point rolling the condom off of himself, tying the end and depositing it in the waste bin that is thankfully near to the bed. He kneels on the edge, methodically starting to unbutton the shirt he had until that point left entirely in place. 

"Is that a yes?" Ogata asks. 

"I liked the sound of it," Yun admits. "Why, did some aspect of my demeanor convince you that I would not like the closeness of such a thing?" 

Ogata can't say why, but the question has him feeling abruptly ashamed. He drags in a breath, exhaustion hitting him all at once and flattening him again to the bed. He's sticky, and frowns at that, but finds himself not displeased enough to do anything about it further than to disdainfully note upon that state of affairs. 

"Don't ask," is what he says, followed a moment later by, "Come to bed." 

At that point Yun has stripped off his shirt, folded it, and placed it with the other clothes he has neatened into an organized pile. Ogata has done no such thing, and doesn't care to. He's passingly thankful that Yun doesn't comment on as much, then far more grateful when Yun moves to lie down beside him. Even after he pulls the cord for the lamp beside the bed, the hall light is visible where it illuminates the space just inside the door. Ogata doesn't care about that, either. 

He can't remember the last time he's slept with someone else in his bed, any bed. He finds that he likes it better than he remembers. 

-

-


End file.
